A quick visit to the National Museum of Korea.

I feel like I’ve been spending less time visiting museums on my travels. I’m not exactly certain why, but I suspect a lot of it has to do with the weather.

I’ve been trying to limit myself to the milder climes of spring and fall, and when the days are as beautiful as they tend to be it’s hard to convince myself to spend them indoors. Thankfully, it’s a grey Friday and on my last full day in Seoul I decide to make my way to the National Museum of Korea to dive into the history of the peninsula.

I take the subway to the museum, walking a long corridor underground to reach the exit. The museum is closeby, a concrete and steel structure concepted as a safe and peaceful fortress between mountains and water. Through an open courtyard framed by the structure of the building I cn see Namsan Mountain, the N Seoul Tower jutting up from near the summit. A pond sits before the museum, a pagoda built to one side to allow one to sit and contemplate the harmony between nature and culture.

Groups of schoolchildren gather in front, their teachers lining them up for photographs or to make sure they are all accounted for. As I see a group heading towards the entrance I slip in before they do in an effort to avoid delay.

Inside I wander the galleries I eschew the map and decide to discover the museum on my own., following the galleries to one side with the intent to walk around the permimeter of the building before making my way to the second floor.

I am particularly taken by the rubbings of the Gwanggaeto Stele, reaching from the floor to the ceiling on four large sheets. The largest stele in East Asia, it’s carved with 1,775 characters containing the founding myth of Goguryeo, King Gwanggaeto's achievements, and regulations for managing the king's tomb.

Elsewhere, I pause in front of an iron Seated Buddha from Seosan-si, an a 8th or 9th-century Unified Silla-era iron statue known for its resemblance to the main Buddha at Seokguram Grotto.

Elsewhere, I stumble upon art from Polynesia as I find my way through the Time Across Generations exhibit on my way to the rear of the museum where I am met by the Gyeongcheonsa Pagoda, a ten-story marble pagoda originally built in 1348 during the Goryeo Dynasty.

I stop to admire the displays of ceramics, studying their shapes for the future. I miss throwing pots, and every time I see them displayed in history and art museums I tell myself that I’ll take classes once again somewhere. I’d love to feel again the fine grains of porcelain slip between my fingers.

Walking back towards the front of the museum I see signs for the Room of Quiet Contemplation and let them lead me to a circular room created for the display of two pensive bodhisattva. Produced in the late sixth and early seventh century, they symbolize enlightenment and thinking about the life and death of human beings.

From there I enter another gallery of Buddhist statuary and stand before them to study their countenances and quietly contemplate their existence.

Having toured most of the galleries I content myself with walking the halls around the atrium. At one point I stop in front of a display containing and desk and a set of shelves containing classic works of art behind it. A little further on I spot a modern display showing various tchotchkes that can be bought in the gift shop. Somehow, there seems to be little that differentiates them.

I take the subway back to my neighborhood. I’m tired; I’ve been working the wee hours of the night and stealing sleep when I can during the day. I have dinner plans at a nice restaurant to celebrate my final night but need a nap to ensure that I’ll remain awake.

Coming out of the subway I walk back through the neighborhood. I’ve grown accustomed to it; I’ve found a cafe that I like, an ice cream stand I frequent. It’s the little bits of normalcy and routine I develop in each city I visit that make each place feel a little bit like home. And tomorrow, I’ll be upending it once again. 🇰🇷